


When I See You Again

by Mishafied



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 04:59:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11306169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishafied/pseuds/Mishafied
Summary: Prompto made a promise to himself, and spent ten years keeping it.





	When I See You Again

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I have come with your overnight delivery of feels and angst. Enjoy your suffering. <3
> 
> I am Riluu on Tumblr. Come see me anytime. I'm not always depressing, promise.

Gladio couldn’t sleep.

 

His arms, shoulders, and back ached from lifting and hammering all day. As he walked down the dimly lit halls, he could pinpoint the parts that had been broken, the parts he’d had a hand in repairing. It felt more like home now than it ever did before, since they’d fought for it, won it back, and built it back up with their own hands.

 

He still thought the price was too high.

 

And he knew it weighed on the others too, like an unseen gravity that pressed down on the three of them harder than everyone else. Noctis left the responsibility of this in their hands- and then they’d had to carry him down from his throne.

 

Gladio’s throat tightened at the thought. It had almost been a year, but he could still hear Prompto’s sobs, hear the quiet way Ignis breathed short and quick to keep from breaking to pieces. He could still remember the way he’d bit the inside of his cheek so hard that coppery blood and pain kept the burn of tears at bay.

 

And now, the memories choking him body and soul, he found himself steps from the throne room. He stopped short of the door and turned- he didn’t want to see the memorial. He hated it. It was everything Noctis never wanted- a sanitized, glorified celebration of the price he shouldn’t have had to pay. It wasn’t for Noctis, it was for the peace of mind of the people, as if even in death Noctis couldn’t be himself, but only a symbol for others.

 

What Gladio wouldn’t give to have one more shot at making fun of another puny fishing catch, or another chance to put Noct through his paces in an evening spar.

 

He started to walk away, but his steps halted when he heard a voice from inside the throne room. No one should have been in there this late, let alone multiple people, but as he turned back toward the door, he realized he only heard one voice.

 

Great. Someone had finally cracked and they were conversing all on their own in the throne room. Fantastic. Just what he wanted to deal with in his pajamas in the dead of night.

 

He cracked the door open so he could slide inside, and when he did, he could finally hear the voice clearly- and he froze when he realized that it was Prompto. That changed everything; he wanted to leave, wanted to give Prompto whatever private moment he was having, but he heard his own name and froze in place.

 

“This is from when Gladio took Talcott out on his first real hunt. Look, the boots were about two sizes too big,” Prompto was saying from where he sat cross-legged by the throne, holding a picture in his hands. “Cor said he was just going to trip over his own feet and land in a flan, but we didn’t exactly have steel toed boots sized for a twelve year old’s feet, you know? Glad he grew pretty quick after that.”

 

Gladio’s heart clenched and his eyes stung when he realized just what he’d walked in on. He was barefoot, so Prompto was oblivious to his presence, instead setting the picture aside on top of a small stack and plucking the next one from another stack.

 

“And this is from when they got back the next day,” he said, tapping the photo in his hand. “Talcott was so proud; he helped kill a Mindflayer. He really wanted to tell Ignis. After you were gone, man, and he saw Ignis out there hunting blind on his own…well, Ignis hated when we called it hero worship, but that’s what it was. Caught Talcott a couple of times in the target range with daggers and a blindfold on. I’m glad Ignis finally started taking him along to the tombs once Gladio said he could hold his own.”

 

Gladio knew he should leave. This was private; Prompto had always talked about wanting to show Noctis all the pictures he took during those ten years.

 

They never had the chance. They had one campfire, and pictures were the last thing on their minds.

 

Prompto set the picture aside. Picked up the next. Yawned.

 

“Last one for tonight, buddy. But this one’s special- look. Gladio and Ignis, smiling. I think that’s only, like…the second time I’d seen them smile like that since you…”

 

Prompto trailed off. Sniffled. When he spoke again, his voice cracked. “Ignis told Gladio he couldn’t live on Cup Noodle forever. And- and Gladio told him that he’d better get his ass back in the kitchen, then. I don’t know if it was that, but you know…Ignis did try to cook more often after that, when he was around.”

 

Gladio remembered that. There had been small flickers of light, moments of joy in that never-ending dark.

 

“Well, anyway, that’s 1,488 days down. 2,267 to go,” Prompto said with a soft laugh, gathering up the photos. “At this rate I’ll get you caught up on the daily highlights by…sometime next year? Gods, you must be bored of this already. If you’re even hanging around for it. You’re probably off fishing in some giant lake where every single fish is the size of a voretooth, and you get your own dramatic fishing battle music, and-“

 

Prompto’s voice trailed off. Gladio leaned back against the door, the weight of the room too heavy, the moment too much as the blonde at the foot of the throne set his forehead against the cool marble and sobbed.

 

“I miss you, Noct,” he said, voice ragged, fingers trailing down the cold stone. “I didn’t want you to miss anything, I kept taking the pictures- I promised I would, every day, so when you came back-“

 

Gladio couldn’t listen anymore. He opened the door enough to slip out, stopping only for a moment when Prompto spoke again, the whispered words echoing in the cavernous room.

 

“I’ll t-tell you all about it when I see you again. And I’ll bring my camera.”

 

And when Gladio glanced back one last time, he could have sworn he saw Prompto’s blonde hair flutter from the fleeting touch of wind in a breezeless room.


End file.
